I’m as hirsute as a man can be. No secret there. However, many of you may have wondered how I came to be so hairy, especially on and around my face. Was it exposure to gamma radiation that made my handsome mug sprout a forest of whiskers? Perhaps I was a scrawny young man with cheeks as smooth as a baby’s bottom until Dr. Erskine injected me with some sort of super shaggy formula. While I can’t confirm or deny these theories—doing so would put countless lives in danger—I can verify that I come from a proud mustache tradition. In fact, a mustache was present at the union of my parents!

Mustachioed groom Dave Gibbons.

That’s right! Were it not for the masculine appeal of a mustache… I wouldn’t exist! Obviously, this is proof that mustaches lead to miracles.

Last week, my parents were kind enough to make generous Movember donations to both my brother Dan and me. Thanks, Mom and Dad! You guys are the greatest!

Dave and Marty Gibbons: The Swingin' Mustache Years. (Note: This photo might also be from "the college years," in which case it would have been Marty Bergstrom. By the by, Bergstrom means "mountain stream" in Swedish (Awesome, right?!) but I think a last name that's also a species of great ape is WAY cooler.

In honor of their awesome donation, I thought it was time to take a look back at my Dad’s mustache. Let’s go back… back in time…

It may come as a surprise to you all, loyal readers, but I was a foolish and arrogant youth once upon a time. I frequently poked fun at the fact that my father had posed for his wedding pictures—on one of the most important days of his life—with a mustache. At the time, my jibes seemed justified, but little did I know how truly stupid my inexperienced youthfulness made me. As I grew up, I donned ’70s sideburns, a ’90s-style goatee and later on I spent some time with a wretched soul patch before turning to the solid and comforting beard. But, until I participated in Movember last year, I never realized just how incredible, gentlemanly and awe-inspiring the mustache could be. I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t appreciate your commitment to dashing excellence and smooth operation. I do now. A mustache is not something to be taken lightly and you wore it with ease. Good show, sir!

Now, please enjoy the subtle but excellent mustache-stylings of David Michael Gibbons…

My dad and my great-grandmother. D. Gibbons (the "D" stands for both Dave and Dad) is rockin' one debonair 'stache!

Magnum P.I. ain't got nothing on this suit-wearing badass.

I’ve spent most of this blog post praising my dad. He’s an awesome guy and a great father who deserves such praise, but that’s the only way I’ve ever known him. I’ve known him as my dad. Here’s the surprising kicker… you seriously may not believe this… but before Dave Gibbons was my dad, he was a seriously groovy cat!

“Man! One day, my kids are gonna know I was super cool thanks to pictures like this!” How many times have you had that thought? None? Ok… well, I’ve had that thought a lot. (Maybe I’ve just taken a ton of awesome pictures…?) Down the line, my kids will see pictures like that, think I was a huge dork and get on with their lives. Hopefully, I can deliver a picture like this and prove that once upon a time I was truly awesome. Behold, Dave Gibbons—my dad—looking so awesome that I need to apologize for all the times I told him—in one way or another—that he was “a square.”

My dad, presumably about to embark on a tour with The Who, and my great-grandfather.

Dad, you were—and are—awesome! Please ignore anything and everything I’ve said to the contrary. I was a foolhardy teen once and never fully understood how rad you were once… and are now. You are the man!

And so, it’s true. I come from a most excellent mustache heritage that makes me well up with pride. My upper lip shall carry on a Gibbons tradition of coolness while raising funds to combat cancer and that makes me smile. Please take some time and donate by heading here. Hopefully, my ‘stache lives up to the proud legacy laid out by my father. I’ll post updates and you can judge for yourself.

May the ‘stache be with you. Good night!

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A bajillion thanks to my dad, who took the time to scan in these photos and send them to me. I love you, Dad! You’re terrific and always have been. And thanks so much for the donation from both you and Mom.